


Carpe diem

by giorgiaink



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Dead Poets Society AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other, Poetry, Seize the day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giorgiaink/pseuds/giorgiaink
Summary: Dead Poets Society AU so it's set in 1959 at Welton Academy (no, I won't do to them the same thing they did to Neil)"Just leaving his country would've been hard enough, but knowing his father considered his new school the perfect one made everything sound extra difficult to Fitz. Luckily his roommate seems to immediately get him and a new teacher's inspiring lessons lead them into a new way to live."
Relationships: Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Yo Yo Rodriguez, Leo Fitz & Lance Hunter, Leo Fitz & Lance Hunter & Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie, Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter, Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: AOS AU August 2020





	1. The New One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is just an introduction because I decided to divide it into chapters. Please consider I'm not an english native speaker, so be clement but also let me know if I wrote something wrong!

Fitz was glancing around looking a bit lost when his mother made him turn to adjust his tie.

She smiled proudly and she was about to tell something when his father's voice preceded her.  
"All right, leave him alone. He doesn't need everyone to know he's such a mommy's boy. And, Leopold... shoulders back and chin up."  
He immediately straightened up and she took a step back but kept smiling at her son.  
"I'm going to be okay." He tried to reassure her and maybe himself as well.

  
Then they left and he walked in to the school hallway.

A few minutes later an old man lighted a candle and called the students.  
Fitz lined up with other boys, holding banners behind another group of students playing bagpipes as they moved into a church, where all the parents and teachers were waiting.

They stopped when the headmaster, Mr. Nolan, walked over to the old man carrying the candle.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys, the light of knowledge." An organ started to play and the ceremony began. The headmaster talked a bit about the history of the school and asked the boys "the same question that greets you at the start of each semester" in a strong, clear voice and with his stern look "Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?"  
Senior students stood up and answered in a chorus: "Tradition, honor, discipline, excellence."

  
Fitz got a thrill. No wonder his father liked that place.  
When everything ended he was about to reach his parents to say goodbye but they were talking with Mr. Nolan, who apparently used to speak with each family as they leave. He felt like he didn't need to be in a conversation with both Nolan and his father so kept his distance.

He thought he was about to just sit alone for a while but another boy suddenly appeared by his side.  
"Hey!"  
He was smiling and looked genuinely happy and that felt weird to Fitz since every other boy around seemed scared or just extremely serious. And it was extra weird because his tie was loosened and his jacket was rumpled, so he definitely didn't look like someone who could fit there.  
"I heard we're gonna be roommates."  
He shook Fitz's hand.  
"I'm Lance Hunter."  
Fitz realized anxiety had dried his mouth and cleared his throat before talking.  
"Leopold Fitz. But I prefer being called just Fitz."  
Lance made a nod of assent.  
"Okay. So, Fitz, can I ask you why did you change your school?"  
"We just moved in from Glasgow."  
"Oh, right!" Lance's smile grew wider. "Your accent was a huge clue, actually."  
Fitz lightly blushed but couldn't help but smile back.  
"You might have noticed I'm not American either. So we already found something we have in common. I think we'll get along together."  
Fitz nodded shyly.  
"Leopold!" His father's voice startled him. "Come here."  
"Sorry, I need to go."  
"No problem. See you in the dormitory."  
  
  
Hunter kept observing him as he went towards his parents as fast as he could but without actually running, trying to look straight and tidy.

  
  


-

The following day, Hunter was going in to his room carrying his suitcase when another boy passed by.  
"Hey, Lance!"  
"Oh, hi, Grant."  
"I heard you met the new one. He doesn't look like he can handle this place, doesn't he?"  
Lance shrugged his shoulders. "He seemed all right to me."  
"I don't know, I bet he'll beg his parents to save him from Mr Nolan in like a week."  
Right at that moment Fitz entered the room.  
Grant casually smiled.  
"Don't worry, Leopold, I was just joking. Mr Nolan's strictness is something we always joke about with new entries. I'm sure you'll be fine."  
That was clearly an attempt to keep up appearances but he was acting so cool he looked sincere. Any way Fitz wasn't as bothered by the "joke" as he was by his name's use. Lance reacted like he was reading his mind.  
"Don't call him Leopold."  
"What?" Grant looked confused.  
"He's right, I prefer Fitz."  
Grant looked a little weirded out but shrugged and smiled again. "Okay."  
"And you are?"  
"Grant Ward, nice to met you... Fitz."  
He shook his hand, then he addressed them both: "Group study tonight?"  
Hunter answered for the both of them: "Sure."  
Then he waited for him to leave.  
"I always suspected he's not the most sincere guy, but, who knows why, he's always around and he's smart so some of my friends want him in the study group. You'll like the others."  
Fitz smiled, realizing he already included him.


	2. Seize the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Students have their first lesson with professor Keating and have different reactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Keating's speeches are from the movie, I transcribed them because I think they're essential and I wanted the characters to react to them. I don't think I'll do it again.

First day was going pretty good for Fitz. Professors were strict and classes were challenging as expected but he was already excelling at chemistry and trigonometry and, as boring as latin could sound to him, he knew he could handle it.  
Hunter, for his part, looked really impressed by his knowledge. Seeing his reaction made Fitz actually feeling proud of himself. Maybe he was actually earning that place in the study group, after all.  
They were waiting for Professor Keating for the final lesson of the day, when Lance leaned in his direction to chat.  
"You know, I think you'll really like Mack."  
"Mack?"  
"The big boy in the last row... His natural habitat would be the first one, but he's too tall. He's the brain of the study group and he likes boring stuff like science and math almost as much as you do."  
Fitz looked genuinely outraged.  
"Okay, first of all: science is absolutely not boring!"  
In response, Hunter laughed.  
"Yes, I confirm you two geniuses are going to be friends. Just don't tell him I said he's a genius."  
Fitz lightly blushed but raised his eyebrows and gave him a challenging look. "Well, you just said I'm a genius too."  
"Okay, nerd, calm down."  
They both laughed and had to stop quickly when the professor emerged from the other room, whistling the 1812 Overture. He walked up the length of the classroom and out the door without a word.  
They looked at each other confused, then Lance quickly glanced at Mack, who just shrugged at him, so he decided to just go with his instinct.  
He sat up, ignored Fitz whispering an alarmed "what are you doing?" and went to the door just in time to witness closely Keating poking his head back in the doorway.  
"Enterprising! I like you." The professor looked happily to Hunter, then back to the class.  
"Well, come on."  
He gestured them to follow so everyone grabbed their books and followed him out into the main entranceway.  
He stood before the school's trophy cabinets and waited until all of them arrived, then solemnly recited: "Oh Captain, My Captain."...who knows where that comes from?"  
The silence incited him to keep talking.  
"It's from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can call me Mr. Keating. Or, if you're slightly more daring, Oh Captain, My Captain."  
They all laughed and Keating pointed at Hunter. "I suspect he's daring enough. But maybe someone else is too. I can't wait for you all to surprise me. For now, I'll let him read. Mr...?"  
Hunter smiled. "I'm Lance Hunter, Captain."  
He smiled back.  
"Mr. Hunter, would you open your hymnal to page 542 and read the first stanza of the poem you find there?"  
Fitz quickly handled him his book, as he had already noticed he forgot his own.  
Mack had approached them to do the same thing, so he just gave Fitz a friendly smile and opened his book and kept it between the two of them to let him follow the reading.  
Hunter read out loud and, at first, with a grin on his face. 

"To the virgins, to make much of time. 

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old  
time is still a flying, and this same  
flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying."

Keating smiled and examined his students faces before talking.  
"Thank you. "Gather ye rosebud while ye may." The Latin term for that sentiment is Carpe Diem. Now who knows what that means?"  
Mack immediately puts his hand up and answered: "seize the day."  
"Very good, Mr...?"  
"Mackenzie."  
"Seize the day. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Why does the writer use these lines?" He paused but had no answer. "Because we are food for worms lads. Because, believe it or not, each and every one of us in this room is one day going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die."  
Then he turned towards the trophy cases, filled with trophies and team pictures.  
"Now I would like you to step forward over here and peruse some of the faces from the past. You've walked past them many times. I don't think you've really looked at them. They're not that different from you, are they? Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things, just like many of you. Their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late to make from their lives even one iota of what they were capable? Because you see gentlmen, these boys are now fertilizing daffodils. But if you listen real close, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on, lean in."  
He moved behind them and paused as they leaned in. "Can you hear it?"  
Then he whispered:  
"Carpe Diem. Carpe Diem. Seize the day boys. Make your lives extraordinary."

He gaves them a minute, as they were now staring at the cases, reflecting upon their whole lifes. Some of them full of hopes and excitement, some of them just terrified.  
Then he broke the silence.  
"Now let's go back into the classroom, so Mr. Hunter can retrieve his own book."  
Hunter gave the book back to Fitz and they went back as he said.  
  
  
Hunter took his book and lifted it up to gesture he was ready to read whatever the teacher was about to ask.  
But he smiled and said something no one was expecting.  
"Now that you all have your books, I'm pretty sure you already read the introduction, "understanding poetry"  
Grant answered first. "Yes, sir. The one by Mr. J. Evans Pritchard."  
"Exactly. Good memory, Mr?"  
"Ward."  
"Good memory, Mr Ward. You remember it correctly."  
For a moment Ward had to try to hide a proud smile but it wasn't too hard since Keating quickly turned his enthusiasm off.  
"Now I want you to completely forget it."  
Ward raised an eyebrow and the whole class looked at least confused. Except for Hunter who was more interested than ever.  
"Now I want you all to rip off that introduction."  
A moment of silence.  
"Come on! I'm serious."  
Hunter ripped the first page off, looked at the teacher for a moment, then kept ripping pages from the introduction.  
Ward decided to do the same soon enough and was followed by many others.  
At some point Fitz shrugged and just did that too.  
Mack struggled more than anyone else but finally did it.  
"You know why I made you to that? Because I want you all to have clear since our first lesson what this will be about. We're not going to measure poetry. I don't want you to just memorize things, I want you to think for yourself. And I know most of you think literature and poetry have nothing to do with your future, but I have a little secret for you."  
He moved as close as possible and gestured for them to lean.  
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are all noble pursuits, and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.  
To quote from Whitman: "O me, o life of the questions of these recurring, of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these, o me, o life? Answer: that you are here. That life exists, and identity. That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.  
What will your verse be?"  
He looked at each one of them, repeating the last verse.  
"What will your verse be?"  
He turned back and was about to go away like this but he stopped by the door and just added he wanted them to write a poem, sending them all in tilt.  
-

The ring of the bell caused a confusion of students running around the school. Hunter and Fitz found Mack just a few moments before Ward reached out.  
"So, what do you think about the new teacher?"  
Mack had a cryptic face. "For sure he's different."  
"Yes, he is." Hunter agreed with a definitely more understandable expression, full of excitement.  
"That was the first time the first thing a professor told me was that he likes me!"  
"Well, you know I'm by your side, but some of the other ones had their reasons to dislike you."  
Both Hunter and Mack laughed.  
"Remember my first meeting with professor Smith?"  
Mack's reaction to that question was a whole show, thanks to the faces he made as he raised his eyebrows and seriously answered: "Believe me, that's impossible to forget."  
Then he turned to Fitz.  
"One day, I'll catch you up with every stupid thing he did so you'll know who you're dealing with."  
He answered with an huge smile.  
Ward put the conversation back on the main topic.  
"Anyway, I just think not everyone can be a poet, so how can we all write a poem?"  
That was something that worried each one of them.  
Mack was the first one to go out on a limb.  
"I think I can give a chance to poetry."  
"Seriously?" Fitz's reaction was instinctive.  
"Yes. I mean, why not? I never tried, so who knows?"  
"I thought you were all about science like me."  
Hunter hurried to specify. "I never said that he likes exclusively science."  
"I love science, but I also enjoy arts and philosophy, so..."  
"Philosophy?"  
"Yes, philosophy. So maybe writing poems could be good too."  
Hunter placed an harm on Fitz's shoulder. "You know you're allowed to like both science and poetry, right?"  
Fitz snorted. "I don't even like this new professor."  
"That's impossible."  
"I just disagree with him."  
Hunter looked at him raising an eyebrow but still smirking.  
"About what?"  
"Just..." Fitz hesitated and gestured confusedly. "I don't like the way he underestimates scientific subjects! Science is essential, okay? And it's fascinating. And it's litteraly the reason why we're alive. Not poetry, science. It's biology. And chemistry."  
"Are you serious? This is not what he was talking about, you know that."  
"Yes, I do. I know. But... Science can give you chills too. It can make you feel alive more than poetry. There's the beauty of nature, the excitement of the investigation, the pleasure of discovery. Science can have everything. And it saves lives."  
Hunter pointed at him. "That's a good start, I think!"  
"What?"  
"What you just said! You could write a poem out of that."  
The confusion on Fitz's face quickly shifted into irritation.  
"I don't know..."  
Hunter shrugged his shoulders."That would be a good way to respond to Keating's intorrerable approach to sciences."  
"I know what you're trying to do."  
"I don't need to do anything, you just need motivation because you have to write a poem anyway."  
Fitz snorted again.  
"What about you?"  
"I don't know. I'm more of an instinctive guy."  
"Are you really saying that you were standing there trying to make me appreciate poetry and you don't like it either?"  
Hunter stretched an arm around his neck and took him away from the others, ignoring Ward's complaints.  
"I never said I don't like it and I wasn't trying to make you appreciate it, I was trying to make you write some so you won't end up being embarrassed in front of the whole class and maybe you could even admit that you already love poetry."  
He was whispering into his ear and when he concluded he just stared right into his eyes with a pleased face.  
"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"  
"I'm just saying I saw the sparkle in your eyes when you first opened the book in our room, when Keating was talking and quoting Whitman or even when I read that virgins poem."  
Fitz looked shocked. "That's ridiculous. And you're supposed to look at the teacher, by the way, not at me."  
Hunter played it cool.  
"It's not like I was staring at you, it just happened I looked at you and you were obviously into poetry!"  
"Obviously." Fitz repeated it sarcastically.


	3. Old yearbooks and the Dead Poets Society

Hunter came out of the bathroom just in time to hear the bell rang, so he was about to leave the room again when he noticed Fitz hadn't moved from the corner of his bed where he was crouched down writing something on a single page torn out of an old notebook.  
"Did you hear the bell, right?"  
Fitz raised his head snorting.  
"Yes, I heard that. Sorry, I'm ready."  
He got up, crumpling his paper.  
"Whoa! What are you doing?"  
"What? Nothing."  
"What were you writing?"  
"Just math."  
"So you just crumpled it because... You got your numbers wrong? You need to learn how to lie better, mate. That's not even your math exercise book, it looks more like a piece of paper where you tried to..."  
He dramatically paused and pretended to think intensely.  
"I don't know, let's say, maybe... To write a poem?"  
Fitz rolled his eyes. "Okay. I was trying. And I failed. And we're late. So let's just go to our gym class, that will be enough torture."  
Lance smiled and opened the door.  
"After you! But I should warn you, I don't know if I'll be able to leave you alone."  
He was still teasing him when they met Grant in the hallway.  
"Hey, guys! What are you chatting about?"  
"Nothing."  
Fitz answer came first, but that didn't stop Hunter.  
"Actually, I don't think that's nothing."  
"Anyway, it doesn't really matter because I surely have a bigger news."  
Grant pulled an old book out of his backpack.  
"I found Keating's senior annual in the library!"  
That definitely catalyzed their attention. Hunter put his hands ahead and frenetically moved his fingers. "Give me, please!"  
He gave him the yearbook, already opened.  
"Oh, Fitz, look at his baby face!"  
"What does it says about him?"  
Hunter solemnly cleared his throat and read out loud: "Captain of the soccer team, editor of the school annual, Cambridgebound, Thigh man, and the Dead Poets Society. Man most likely to do anything."  
Fitz looked confused.  
"We got a football team?"  
"Seriously?"  
Now Ward looked even more confused than him.  
"That's what caught your attention?"  
Finally Hunter came up with the main question: "What the hell is the dead poets society?" 

-

Gym class took the next couple of hours.  
When the coach finally left, Lance threw himself on the grass. Fitz slowly reached to him wailing.  
"Oh, help! Save me."  
Hunter made a face at him, still lying on the ground.  
"Man, I can barely save myself."  
Fitz laughed and sat next to him.  
"Stop it, you're athletic, I should be the one lying down."  
Then he noticed Mack going towards them without any sign of fatigue.  
"Oh, come on! Is there anything you're not good at?"  
Mack smiled. "What are you talking about?"  
"Aren't you a nerd? Why are you also so... Muscolar."  
Hunter burst out laughing but immediately stopped at Mack's answer.  
"Try to be the only black student on your school and you'll want muscles too."  
He noticed their serious faces and smiled. "Anyway, I also like to be handsome!"  
Right at that moment, Grant reached them.  
"Have you told him about the dead poets society?"  
"The what now?"  
Hunter immediately sat up.  
"Oh, you need to see this!"  
They showed Mack the old yearbook.  
"Well, talking about being good at everything... Keating litteraly has "man most likely to do anything" written under his picture."  
"Look, he's there."  
Grant pointed at the other side of the courtyard where the teacher was walking towards the school entrance and suddenly Hunter took the book back from Mack's hands.  
"I'm going to ask him about the dead poets society."  
He announced that naturally and then instinctively turned to Fitz.  
"Want to come with me?"  
"Yes!"  
Lance held out his hand and pulled him up.  
"Let's go! Fast!"  
Mack yelled at them: "I'm looking at Lance Hunter chasing a teacher, who would have guessed!"  
Fitz couldn't help but laughing at that but didn't stop running.  
Hunter reached Keating, nearly bumping into him.  
"Captain!"  
"Good morning, gentlemen! Where are you running to?"  
"To you actually. Look what we have!"  
Hunter handed him the yearbook and he looked at his picture whispering a full of emotions "oh my God!"  
"Grant Ward found it, to be honest. But I read it and I was wondering what's the dead poets society."  
"Oh, something the current administration probably wouldn't like."  
"Why?"  
"Can you keep a secret?"  
Hunter smiled and nodded.  
The teacher turned to Fitz. "What about you?"  
"Absolutely."  
"The Dead Poets were dedicated to sulking the marrow out of life. That's a phrase from Thoreau that we'd invoke at the beginning of each meeting. You see we'd gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley; the biggies. Even some of our own verse. And in the enchantment of the moment we'd let poetry work its magic."  
"You really make it seem like magic."  
"Because it was. It was the most magical thing, we were romantics. We didn't just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues like honey."  
He smiled, looking at their amazed faces.  
"Well, thank you for this trip down amnesia lane. I need to go now, you're not my only students. I have other souls to wake up."  
They said goodbye to him and looked at each other in silence for a moment.  
Fitz easily read Hunter's face.  
"You want to create our own dead poets society, don't you? "  
"Of course! Don't you want it too?"  
Fitz tried not to smile, but couldn't help himself.  
"If you do it, I'll do it."


	4. Family dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few lessons couldn't tone down Fitz's and Hunter's enthusiasm about their new project to recreate the dead poets society but someone had his own idea about how his son was supposed to spend his night.
> 
> Things take an unexpected turn when a family dinner gives Fitz the opportunity to meet new friends and to have an interesting conversation with his mother.

A few lessons couldn't tone down Fitz's and Hunter's enthusiasm about their new project to recreate the dead poets society but someone had his own idea about how his son was supposed to spend his night.

On lunch break, Hunter tried to explain everything quickly but passionately to Mack and he was obviously confused.  
"So, let me get this straight. Yesterday you two were arguing in this very hallway because you had no idea how to write a poem and you... Fitz, you didn't even want to try! And today you want to start a poetry club?"  
Hunter made a face.  
"It's not a poetry club!"  
"No? And what is it?"  
"Okay, it's a poetry club. But it's also secret and could give us a new perspective, I guess."  
Mack turned to glance at Fitz with a questioning look.  
He just shrugged and tried his best to explain his twist.  
"Look, I don't know how I got into this either, but... It could be interesting to make something on our own."  
Mack nodded.  
"Okay, so the appeal is transgression. You two don't like rules, I get it."  
"What?" Fitz looked outraged. Even though he secretly thought maybe he was right.  
Hunter just rolled his eyes.  
"And you love them, I know. But I also know you'd definitely love this experience. That's why you're the first one we are telling this. But maybe I should have talked to Lincoln or James."  
Now Mack was the outraged one.  
"Oh, please, what does James know about poetry? Also, I know the guy, if he leaves the room alone at night, they'll spot him in ten seconds."  
Hunter smirked.  
"Yeah, he needs a wiser guidance. Actually, as his roommate, I think that's your responsibility."  
Mack rolled his eyes but Hunter insisted.  
"C'mon I know you'll love this!"  
"Yeah, okay, I'm in. I don't want you guys to get expelled and I definitely don't love every rules."  
Hunter cheered at that.

They were going to have lunch when someone came to tell Fitz his father just called the school to talk to him.  
Fitz unwillingly left Hunter and Mack at their table to reach the phone. He came back after a few minutes.  
"Hey! Your food is getting cold. Is everything okay?"  
Mack was just trying to be nice, he wasn't expecting a father's call to be a big deal.  
"Yes, sort of."  
Fitz's face wasn't happy.  
"What is it?"  
"I don't really know. But my father wants me to go home for dinner. He invited some colleagues and apparently they have a son and he doesn't want him to be alone."  
"Oh, that's cute."  
"No, it's not. It's my father calling me just when he needs me to impress or entertain someone, even if we both know whatever I'll do, it won't be enough for him."  
Mack was speechless and looked at Hunter for help. He was just staring at Fitz.  
"So?"  
"I'll go, of course. I need to take the next bus because he wants me to be there before 4 pm."  
"But the next bus is in 30 minutes. You'll be there early."  
"I know."  
Hunter leaned his shoulders to the chair and nodded to himself.  
"Okay, here is my idea: we all take that bus together and spend the afternoon wandering around until you need to go home, then we'll leave you alone. So you'll be there as little as possible."  
"Yeah, I'm in." Mack immediately agreed.  
Fitz didn't know what to say.  
"I... Are you sure?"  
"Of course."

They agreed to meet in fifteen minutes by the school gate and quickly went back to their rooms to change clothes and get ready.  
Fitz carefully selected a white shirt and beige trousers and took that too tense pose he had the first time Hunter saw him  
"Hey."  
Hunter's voice was resolute but soft, and it still startled Fitz a bit.  
"What?"  
He really wanted tell something to actually making him feel he had nothing to prove to anyone, but he couldn't find the right words. Anyway, he felt the weird sensation that even if he had found them, they would've been blocked in his throat.  
"You look good. Now we should go or we'll miss the bus."  
"Right."

Mack was waiting for them with Lincoln, who apparently wanted to meet some girl who lived near Fitz's house.  
They hadn't talked much before, so Fitz didn't have an opinion on him yet and wasn't sure he liked he was there with them, but he was still really glad he was not alone on that bus. Especially because Hunter spent the entire ride trying to distract him and cheer him up and he was really good at that.

  
Once they got off the bus, Lincoln immediately guided them to a coffee shop.  
Two girls were happily chatting over their cups of coffee and one of them immediately smiled and waved at Lincoln.  
He smiled back and walked over.  
"Hi, girls! I'm with some friends today, they're Mack, Lance and Fitz. Guys, meet Daisy and Elena!"  
"See?" Daisy made a face to Elena. "I told you you're not the third wheel! Guys, please have a sit, it's nice to finally meet you all."  
Lincoln chuckled.  
"C'mon, El, we're friends, you're never the third wheel!"  
She smiled but frowned.  
"Yeah, I know we're friends and I love you both, but sometimes it feels like sparks are flying between you two and I don't want to be in the middle in those moments!"  
They all laughed at that and the rest of the time was spent chatting and laughing as well. Both the girls were really funny and smart and had some strong ideas on different topics.  
At some point Daisy leaned her head on Lincoln shoulders and whispered him to look at Mack.  
"He looks particularly interested in everything Elena says, don't you think?"  
"Yeah, some extra sparks are flying today."  
They both laughed.

When it was time for Fitz to go home they decided to go with him and take a walk.  
He was a little weirded out by the way he was feeling really comfortable with that group of people, some of which he barely knew. But it just felt very heart-warming to witness the way they didn't want to let him walk alone and they just naturally came with him and kept chatting and kept everyone into the conversation despite there clearly were a couple of flirts going on.  
It was also really funny to watch Mack being knocked out by Elena's charm.  
He would definitely rather have stayed with them than go home.  
But he did what he had to do.

  
He had to change his clothes to look more elegant and he was asked a lot of things about school.  
He wasn't surprised to learn his father was expecting more of his already very good grades but didn't care at all about the literature and poetry class.  
But that confirmation made him want to create the dead poets society more than ever.  
What was really surprising was the conversation he had the time to have with his mother.  
He had only mentioned something about Keating's lessons to her when she started to search something in their bookshelf.  
"Here it is!"  
She took a book with so much happiness in her eyes.  
"I think I was your age when I read this collection of poems for the first time."  
"Really? I didn't even know you're into this kind of things."  
"I am! Well, I'm not a poet, I just like to read poems. I think reading someone else's feelings expressed in such a beautiful way can make you understand your own."  
Fitz shrugged. "Maybe you're right. But my teacher won't be satisfied with this, he wants us to write our own poem. I don't even know how to start."  
She softly smiled and caressed his face.  
"Baby, you said he made you all rip off the paragraphs about metrics and all the rules. I don't think he wants you to be perfect, I think he wants you to be true and honest and free. And I know you are excellent at science but you're so smart and sensitive, I think you can be good at anything."

_

At the end of the day his parents brought him back to the school's dorm so the next day he could get to class on time.  
While walking down the hallway, he felt his tension melting away from his shoulders but started to feel that gentle kind of fatigue that comes when you know you're almost home and you can finally relax.  
It was relatively late and he knew every student was already in bed, so he opened the door of his room very slowly, trying to not make any noises.  
Hunter heard him anyway.  
He turned on the light on his nightstand and sat up on his bed.  
"Hey, mate. I thought you'd be sleeping home."  
"No, they don't want me to miss any lesson. Sorry, did I wake you up?"  
"No, don't worry, I wasn't sleeping. How did it go?"  
Fitz smiled. "Better than I thought. Dinner was boring, my father's colleagues didn't even bring their son. But my mother gave me this."  
He showed the book shaking it.  
"What's that?"  
"A collection of poems she read when she was younger."  
"So it's in your blood, isn't it?"  
"I don't think so. But she said some nice things."  
Suddenly Hunter stood up and took something from his backpack.  
"I've got something for you too."  
Fitz looked at him with surprise but said nothing and took the notebook he was holding out.  
It looked elegant, in a nice shade of beige with dark green edges. He touched its smooth surface carefully, then raised his head to look at Hunter, who just started to talk again.  
"We passed a stationery shop while you were home and it reminded me of you so I just left Mack and Lincoln with the girls and went in to buy this. So maybe you'll stop writing on torn up pieces of paper and throwing them away. I also took one for myself, even if I don't know what I'll write in it."  
Fitz smiled.  
"Thank you. And not just for this. You didn't have to come with me just because I was nervous."  
Hunter shrugged and smiled back.  
"Nah, that was nothing. And it was a nice afternoon anyway."  
"Yes, it really was."


	5. The First Meeting

Fitz woke up earlier that next morning and spent some time reading poems from his mother's book.  
The more he read, the more it was clear Hunter could've been right on a couple of things.  
Surely poets write a lot about the wonders of nature and they could've something in common with some kind of scientists, if you really think about it.  
They can share the amazement and sometimes they can raise the same questions before taking different approaches to them.  
And poets write about the joy of discovery too.  
They can write about a lot of different topics and they can make things sound differently and be more impactful.  
And maybe, just maybe, Hunter was also right about him liking both science and poetry.

When he finally closed the book, he put it on his nightstand, next to his new notebook.  
He noticed it and he couldn't help but smiling and looking at Hunter, who was still sleeping on the other side of the room. Once again Fitz was hit and amazed by the thought of him walking with their group of friends in such an absorbing atmosphere and still noticing a stationery shop and thinking about taking him a notebook.

-

When the alarm went off Hunter woke up muttering but immediately changed attitude at the sight of Fitz writing something in his notebook.  
"Don't say anything."  
He smirked. "I knew it!"  
Fitz tried to hide a smile, keeping his gaze on the paper. 

-

Hunter decided it was definitely the right moment to finally start their dead poets society and spent every lessons of the day getting distracted and trying to write his own poem... also because he knew Keating was probably about to ask them to read what they wrote and he still had nothing. And, maybe for the first time in his whole life, he didn't want to disappoint a teacher... even if he probably would never admit that.  
Math class was basically a poetry class to him, which at some point led Fitz to steal his exercise book to write some calculations trying to imitate his calligraphy and saving him when the teacher checked their numbers.  
Hunter mouthed a "thank you" in his direction but kept getting distracted in every class.

-

Lunch break brought the whole group together.  
Mack and his roomate, James Davis, were both in the mood for jokes, but, weirdly enough, Hunter didn't join them and quickly brought everybody's attention back on the dead poets society.  
Soon enough, Fitz pointed at Hunter's notebook.  
"Since I backed you up the whole morning, can I at least read what you wrote?"  
"I don't know, mate. Can I read what you wrote?"  
Lincoln raised his eyebows. "You both already wrote your poems?"  
Mack answered for them.  
"What do you mean "already"? Keating will probably ask them tomorrow."  
Lincoln and James gave each other a terrified look.  
Fitz shrugged. "To be honest, I wrote more than just one, but I like none of them."  
"What a surprise!"  
Fitz made a face at Hunter's sarcasm.  
"Shut up."  
"I think you should read something to us tonight."  
Fitz turned up his nose.  
"I don't know. I don't like to read in front of people."  
"Tonight we're going to be definitely less people than the whole class. You do remember Keating wants us to read in class, right?"  
"Oh, thank you very much, now I'm calm and ready to read."  
Mack gave him his softest smile.  
"Nobody will judge you."  
"First of all, you don't know that."  
"Okay maybe someone will, but who cares?"  
Hunter didn't wait for an answer but started making a weird, annoing voice: "oh my God, the math genius also writes poems and even got feelings! Unbelievable!"  
Suddenly some weird expression were directed towards him.  
"What?"  
As usual, Mack's face answered before he could do it in words.  
"Nothing. It's just... you are the one who usually wants to look tough and who's the most scared to show feelings."  
He snorted.  
"I'm not scared of anything."  
Mack nodded sarcastically. "Sure."  
"On the other hand, you're so good at showing feelings, right? So, why don't you read one of your poems to Elena instead of us?"  
A series of verses and laughs followed Davis sentence as he patted Mack's shoulder.  
Lincoln looked particularly happy the conversation had just moved to that.  
"Man, I don't know if you're actually writing poems about her, but you should totally see her again. You know she likes you too, right? It's not like she was so secretive about that."  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
It wasn't clear if he was trying to play it cool or if he was really that blind, but he got a couple of insults for that.  
He couldn't help but smile.

-

The woods looked different at night. One might think it was scary, but none of them would've described it like that.  
And that's for sure, since all of them tried to think about a poetic description at least once while walking through it.  
All of this was supposed to be about poetry, after all.  
Some of them gave up soon but kept enjoying the fresh air, the thrill of breaking the rules and of the escape and the feeling of freedom.  
Still, a lot of words were thought.  
Fascinating. Dark. Quiet. Enchanting. Wide. Surprisingly welcoming.

Hunter led them through the trees, towards the cave.

Fitz entered immediately after him, interestingly looking around.  
"How exactly did you know how to find this place?"  
"Do you really think I never sneaked out before?"  
"Right. Stupid question."

When everybody was in, they took place, sitting in circle on the ground or on some rocks.  
Mack looked even taller in there.

Hunter started to emphatically read an extract of "Walden, or Life in the Woods", the same Keating had said he read to open the meetings of his Death Poets Society.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life..."

There followed a few moments of loud silence.

Davis broke it.  
"I have to say it. This, like Keating's speach before the school's trophy cabinets, is beautiful... but it also gives me anxiety."  
Someone smiled but Fitz looked at him sincerely.  
"I know, right? I mean, I'm not really afraid of death, maybe because my mum always said it's just like the way life was before you were born... but sometimes I just think I'm living the wrong way."  
Mack frowned but smiled softly. "There's not such a thing as a wrong way. You're just on your own journey, you just need to keep growing and have faith."  
Davis protested. "What are you afraid of? You're a genius and you know what you want to be. You already have everything figured out."  
Mack answered first. "You will know what you want too. And I don't think Fitz was talking about this kind of thing, right?"  
"Yeah, I'm not talking about my goals or my professional future. And you will be okay with those too. I've faith in those as I've faith in mathematics, I know my work is always good. It's... everything else."  
"You both need more faith anyway."  
Lincoln straightened up in his sit, taking the word.  
"I'm in between on this. I do believe we are all different and everyone has their own purpose. But I'm not sure we can all find it. And I'm not even sure I care. That's what I like of this whole "carpe diem" thing, I want to live the moment and, you know, feel all the good things."  
Hunter finally leaped and talked again.  
"Exactly! The last part. This is what this is supposed to be about. "Suck out all the marrow of life!"


End file.
